Bold Statements: A continuing series of dumb ideas...
I fucking hate Blondie. More than that, I think they’re a bunch of disco-loving new wave phonies. I can’t deal with the punk cred they end up getting from cultural commentators, which seems to me more a by-product of right place right time of their birth than of actual punk rock ethos. And I’m not even talking about their sound. I think punk is an ethic not an aesthetic. The...
God, I did that last post almost purely for the #hashtags. Pretty meta. Conner, you better reblog/like this, you Truffaut-watching motherfucker.
…And wanting beyond wanting, (As we’re wont to do) Will leave us...– A newly discovered fragment of a poem by Charles Dodgeson (Lewis Carrol)
jordanmorris: Star Fucking Hipsters - Ana Ng ...
Gramma said “There’s bone And there’s flesh And there’s the child of both A greedy, hungry bastard He’ll eat you whole and make you fat with him.” I went to bed that night And all I could think about Was a rotting jellyfish under my skin, Spongy, stinking blossoms erupting from my small, thin limbs Wet and polypus This body, a dying sack of fluids and clotted tissue But then there was Jack Born...
On those nights when you know the heat isn’t just in your head. On those nights where the colors don’t stick to the walls like they’re supposed to, sliding. On those nights where all you can dream about is sweating, and all you can think about is innocence. I spill the glass of icewater on the couch. Normally, I think I’d jump up and try to clean it, but tonight its just water as it seeps through...
All those drunken affirmations Won’t mean a thing in the morning When it’s all left your system And so have I
You get many wishes in your life; nobody ever taught you how to use them though. You find yourself in many places thinking many things. You are given and you recede. The sun will rise, yellow and white, and you will be held accountable for every word you’ve ever said. The judgment is small and quiet, and rendered every minute of every day. It’s rulings are fair, for all things are fair...
For a joke I will laugh at the wretched and despairing For a joke I will level all accounts For a joke I will spill the loving cup For a joke I will cry For a joke I will mount a crusade against the light For a joke I will sacrifice family and friends, Beloved pets, Upon the cracked, chipping alter And while I do this You will see my eyes glinting up at you That timid, probing smile As I...
Free download of "RUBY" via Rolling Stone →
Get this tune. Best American 90s Guitar Rock currently operating.
No I WON’T go! To where the monsters grow No I WON’T go! Play the sympathies of nights Edify this edict! All things must turn to rot And blistered as in bloat Will broach our boorish brothers In their flight!
I find myself Growing more perverse every day. “Kinky” might not be the word, For it more resembles An unknotting An unraveling A slow and steady unspooling Into a little placid puddle Quietly content on the floor
Spector once said of Wilson: “I’d like to have a nickel for every joint he...– Brian Wilson and Phil Spector are the Holmes and Moriarty of pop music. (via twentypercentcooler)
Give me your lips Give me your tongue Give me eyes closed Heart throbbing And make your case.
Not all writ smudged by someone’s palm is a fucking offer.
Behold! A New Aphorism Is Born
New 90s style insult: calling someone a “Swamp Dinosaur” Example: “We had this lunch lady in high school. We used to call her ‘swamp dinosaur.’” “That guy is such a fucking Swamp Dinosaur.” “Dude, his mom. TOTAL S.D.”
Water. Water. We are all of and in Water
There should be a fruit With flesh like dried cherries But that was the size of a pineapple I can feel it in my heady teeth biting down Gently rending the soft, dry flesh The acid whiplash Mellowed by the earthen sweetness More like a root or yam Than a fruit It must be the feeling A lion feels As its teeth Calmly, Without violence Tears reams into the meat Of its prey.
“I sold some of your comics,” my father said, feeble and terrified,”from when you were a kid. I sold some and never told you.” I had a momentary sensation, like a pindrop inside of me, that I’d actually thought that before. It had occurred to me that some comics has simply gone missing without explanation and I had thought then that he might have sold them to get...
Fragments of a dream poem
And now the family of mandrake All gathered round like a great dinner plate We watch, the hollow under our eyes Howling
a hole so deep it’s no hole at all teeth clenched steeling yourself brace and be brave
I apologize (to myself mostly) for the the belatedness of this one. The truth is, I needed to dream it before I could write it. I dreamed last night That before I was born My mother and my stepfather (yes, my stepfather) Had another son Who died when he was very young. And suddenly, I felt like our lives made sense The way my parents are It could be nothing short Of a thin curtain of endless...
Perhaps the album’s standout track is the pulsating...– Taken from the press for an artist I’ve recently found. Sigh. OK. I’ve left out the offending song title and artist’s name because, honestly, I really like the artist and song in question. But “the haunting darkness of Tom Waits” is a nonsense thing. It’s not...
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Haiku for a winters eve
I can’t explain how Happy I am with this new song, Except through haiku haikus totally count as a fuckin’ poem, you damn dirty ape “planet of the apes” was originally called “the monkey planet”
1. never follow an artist who describes his or her work as ‘dark’ . 2. the...– Robert Forster - The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll (via newspeedwayboogie) Apt. Probably true.
The linding clocks And tickering tocks The wails behind the wall All wassel up the windel And pretext twhere the trol Torn nine-five-seven And wixestick Mourned Remus, rife and wrall But fair not hut, Nor tifinal Wix nine, fortell my fall
The View From Below
The view from below Has power. We see the chinks in the armor And the little grotesque things That dangle closer to our up-stretched arms every day. The problem: That is that nauseous, treacley feeling That you live with every day At being laughed at By people with a full plate And unkind hearts
As the fox scurried through the forest He remembered, He had to pay a debt to the old black bear. He fretted, Unsure of what bears use for currency.